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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156698">The Ridiculous and Wholly Unnecessary Corvo Bianco Tree Hunt</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozaMoza/pseuds/LozaMoza'>LozaMoza</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Moments [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Old Married Couple, Yuletide, because Geralt and Yennefer, keeping up with the joneses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:47:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozaMoza/pseuds/LozaMoza</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yennefer decides she wants a tree in her house for Yule instead of a mere log.</p><p>Geralt suffers...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Moments [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806943</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Ridiculous and Wholly Unnecessary Corvo Bianco Tree Hunt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ok, I know it has been a MINUTE since I've posted! I have a few pieces I am currently working on, and I haven't forgotten any of my others, but I have just been a bit busy with life and work and reality. However, I've missed everyone terribly, so I thought I would create this fun little short chaptered piece to celebrate the season!</p><p>Also, there are a couple callbacks to some of my stories of a bit naughtier nature, including "The One with the Ropes You use for Trophies" and "Bioluminescence", so maybe catch those out before you read this. </p><p>And yes, it's Geralt and Yen, so this will get naughtier in time too.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Geralt had laughed when Yennefer casually mentioned they could have a white yule that year. It had been a week back, and the weather in Toussaint had turned surprisingly cold for the normally temperate climate. The vineyard, long bereft of its green leaves and purple and golden fruit, had been covered in a layer of icy frost these past few mornings. Geralt had to admit it had haunting beauty - thick, dark vines encapsulated in a delicate lace of ice crystals - but was it indicative of a white Yule? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, he said to himself, it wasn’t the unforgiving cold of the North. Geralt knew that cold. He was raised by it, nurtured into a man by it. The winters of the Kaedwen ranges were cruel and long. He shivered involuntarily as he remembered the icy winds racing down the crumbling corridors of the old Keep that had been his home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This chilly morning with its pretty frost? This was not that cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, it was rather nice to look at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoying the view?” a silky voice questioned behind him, and Geralt couldn’t hold in his smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yen.</span>
  </em>
  <span> How long had they fought for this easy comfort between them? This bit of domesticity that had been teased and stolen away countless times, leaving both of them certain it was a dream that would never,</span>
  <em>
    <span> could never,</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen. And yet, against all odds, here they both were, in a land of fairytale castles and vanilla-scented skies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How strange the vagaries of fate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her small hand circled his waist while she sidled next to him, warm beverage in her hand. He watched as the steam curled in the morning air. “You seem to be musing,” she said as she took a sip of the hot liquid. “Tell me you aren’t musing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, I’m not musing,” he smirked as he took her mug, drinking down the bitter liquid. Coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why you insist on drinking coffee without milk and sugar is a mystery I’ll never understand,” he said as he took another sip and made a face. “It’s horrible plain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I didn’t make it for you, did I?” she snarked back, pulling her drink away from him. “Besides, I happen to like the taste of it plain. It’s got a sharpness that, apparently, some softer souls simply cannot handle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen, say what you want about me, but absolutely no one would accuse me of not being able to handle things that are sharp.” She scowled in response and he laughed. “See, point proven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh hush,” she replied. “But what are you doing outside? It’s positively freezing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now who’s soft? What happened to the northern girl I met so long ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She moved south and adapted her wardrobe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt thought about her breezy summer dresses that allowed the light to filter through, highlighting the figure he could never have enough of. “Something of which I am eternally grateful.” That got a smile from her, and he grabbed her coffee cup and took another sip while she cuddled against him. They stared out at the vineyard for another moment, the mists of their breaths entwining. “I think you’re right, Yen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I am,” she replied. “About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed. “About it being a white Yule. I think you might be right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you decided to stop being stubborn, insisting that you ‘know cold’ because you grew up in Kaer Morhen, and listen to me on weather patterns? I’m impressed, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>DO</span>
  </em>
  <span> know cold!” Geralt retorted. Yennefer just rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyway, </span>
  </em>
  <span>white Yule or not, there is something I want to do this year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s mind immediately went to the ropes they had played with a few months back. “More ropes?” he said, not even bothering to hide the overriding tone of hopefulness peppered with desperation in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her violet eyes bored into him as the corner of her right lip curled slightly. “Yes, that was rather delicious, wasn’t it? But no darling, that’s not exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking of trees.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trees, that bioluminescent moss they found that one time…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, honestly!” Yennefer laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay outta my head if you don’t want to know,” he stated as he took another sip of her coffee, trying to focus on the bitterness of the drink as opposed to the uncomfortable tightness in his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want a tree for Yule to put in the manor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That cut off any fantasies. “A tree? It’s a log, Yen, not a whole tree.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Duchess, annoying as she is, has a stunning tree in the Palace. Ciri also told me that in Nilfgaard it’s rather common to have a tree rather than a log, and she has multiple ones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is stupid. How do you burn a tree in the house? You’re going to set fire to the entire damn estate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be ridiculous, Geralt,” she responded as she grabbed her mug. She went to take a sip and scoffed at the empty cup. “You put the tree in the house, decorate it, and when Yule is over, take it back out. You don’t burn it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would anyone want a dead tree in their house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yule logs serve a purpose, Yen. Not only are they traditional, but they keep the damn house warm and lit. What does cutting down an oak sapling do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not oak,” she replied, turning around and walking into the house. Geralt followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not oak?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it has to be a pine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yennefer, those trees are three times the size of the house!” Geralt exasperated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or fir. Ideally fir, since I think those are more attractive. And obviously we are not going to use a fully-grown one, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stared dumbfounded at her for a few moments. “Well, there’s a kink in your plans, Yen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that would be?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Firs are a northern species, so the ones in Toussaint certainly wouldn’t pass muster for your ‘oh-so-discerning’ taste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True,” she said with a crooked smile, and Geralt felt a sudden weight of foreboding envelop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no. No no no…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes,” she said happily. “Dress warm, Witcher. Though I shouldn’t need to tell you. After all, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>the cold, correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt cursed. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for your continued support even though I know I've been MIA! You are amazing :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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